


Trinity

by Gabrielique (Sacchan90)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, M/M, Multi, some historical settings but not really much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacchan90/pseuds/Gabrielique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's there, with the smile he learned to recognize life after life, with her wild green eyes; she's there in front of him, shaking Bossuet's hand like is not important.<br/>She's there. And Bossuet is there too. This is new. This is bad.<br/>She's not supposed to be there, not in this lifetime, not with Bossuet already here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trinity

> “ _And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”_  
> 

> _(- The Chaos of Stars)_

 

**Paris, April 17 th 2011**

The Musain is filled with the chatting of the customers, and most of people would find probably impossible to study with so much noise, but Joly is used to it, it's like his mind can lock out all the voices and focus on the words on his book.

After all, every minute he can spend studying is a precious minute, so there is no need to waste time.

Bossuet is sitting next to him and that's the real distraction for Joly because how is he supposed to focus on the anatomy book if Bossuet is reading with his head on his shoulder making little noises every time the plots gets interesting.

For how much they are sitting closer, Bossuet could be sitting on Joly's lap and the result will be the same, but it's not really that that makes Joly lost concentration, but the quiet wave of memories coming back to his mind.

He desperately tries to force himself not to remember, not now, not here, but he can't really stop his subconscious to act.

They used to do this, to study together, enjoying each others' company, spending afternoons in the same room.  
Probably it happened in Oxford, he remembers making a list of the bones in the hand showing them on Bossuet's hand. He remembers Bossuet looking at him with such curiosity and intensity that in the end he shuttered the last bones in embarrassment and quickly pulled his fingers away from Bossuet's hand.

He'd like to ask Bossuet when it happened, but he knows that Bossuet doesn't know and probably will never remember.

Bossuet is still reading, perfectly settled in the XXI century.

He should be used to the sense of disappointment that comes from the knowledge that he's the only one remembering all those things, but every time he finds himself hoping that Bossuet will look at him and he will understand, that he will remember too.

All those memories...they are totally useless if he can't share them with Bossuet.

Familiar voices approaching interrupts his thoughts and it's a relief; he recognize Cosette's gentle voice and Eponine's lower one, but there is a third voice, another female one, that he can't recognize.

“Are you sure it's okay?” the unknown girl is asking

“Yes, don't worry, they are always happy when new people joins.” Cosette reassures her.

“I mean, I am still here, it's a good assurance that they will not kick you out.” Eponine says happily. “Hell, they still keep Grantaire around so I guess once you join them it's for life or something like that.”

Bossuet finally takes his eyes of the book and looks at the three girls. “Absolutely, we have also make blood oaths.” he announces with irony -and Joly smirks with his eyes still on the book-. “Who is your friend?”

Joly finally looks up at them and freeze.

The third girl is a little bit taller than the other two, has a darker skin, green eyes and dark brown hair kept in a low ponytail, her features are sharp and she looks fierce and self-confident.

“She's Musichetta.” Cosette says with a big smile. “We meet during a feminist meeting in college.”

“Ah that's awesome.” Bossuet says standing up, he reach out a hand to the new girl. “I'm Bossuet.”

“Musichetta.” the girls repeats with a smile shaking the boy's hand. His grip his gentle and firm and she like it, as much as she likes the smile on his face.

_Musichetta, Musichetta, Musichetta._

For a moment there is nothing but her name in Joly's mind, a mantra ready to make him go insane.

_Musichetta, Musichetta, Musichetta._

She's there, with the smile he learned to recognize life after life, with her wild green eyes; she's there in front of him, shaking Bossuet's hand like is not important.

She's _there_.

And Bossuet is there too.

This is new. This is bad.

She's not supposed to be there, not in this lifetime, not with Bossuet already here.

“Joly, are you okay?” Eponine asks perplex focusing on the boy.

Only then Joly realizes he stood up abruptly from his chair, that his hands are gripping the edge of the table with all of his strength, and that he's looking at Musichetta as one could look at a ghost.

Except, to him, Musichetta is somehow a ghost, a ghost of his past lives and yet very real and very alive.

When Musichetta looks at him, Joly feels his heart stop for a brief second because he knows that look, he knows the way those green eyes -those wild wild eyes-, look at him with suspicious every time they first meet in a new life.

He can also see a sort of confusion and for a moment he can pretend Musichetta recognized him, as he recognized her. (but that's silly, that never happened before, why should that happen now?)

“Yes I am okay.” Joly says quickly and offer his hand to Musichetta. “I'm Joly.”

Musichetta looks at him for a moment before shaking his hand, but it's clear that something is not right because she's frowning confused. “Nice to meet you, Joly.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Joly whispers and he keeps her hand in his for a second more than necessary, feeling the familiar soft skin under his fingers, remembering the starry night sky of Jerusalem above them as they held hands together in the first life he can remember with her.

 

* * *

 

  
For the rest of the evening, as Enjolras and Combeferre takes turn to explain what some students are already planning and how they can help, Joly tries to not look at Musichetta, and of course he fails miserably.

The first thing he notices is how Musichetta fits perfectly, she has always been a strong woman, when she was a Muslim in Jerusalem during the crusade or a gypsy during the XV century, but Joly knows how she always felt out of place for the color of her skin, but not now.

There is a confidence in her, in the way she sit with her back straight, that is a clear sign of how in this life she feels more accepted.

There is a long way to equality and unity, but Joly can understand, in this life she's not a maid or an outsider, she's not different from Cosette or Eponine or anyone else, she's not _perceived_ as different and she doesn't perceive herself as such.

 Joly is only glad that his memories are not coming back all together like it happened years ago with Bossuet, because when it happened it has been horrible and he has been sick for days, trying to discern from reality and his past lives.

 More he stares at her, more he remembers, but the worst thing is that Musichetta is staring at him too, even if with more discretion; and it's Joly the one adverting his eyes blushing instead of her and he would like to laugh because that's exactly how they fell in love in every life.

She's a lioness scared of nothing, and Joly falls for her integrity and courage every time.

And he fears he's already in love once again.

 Bossuet, who is still perfectly settled in the right century, has no idea what's going on between the two, why Joly seems so interested by this new girl, or why he can't take his eyes off her, but he decided that Joly's behavior is pure curiosity and nothing more.

  

* * *

 

**Paris, April 26 th 2011**

The movie night is a ritual, every week they reunite to watch a movie together (well most of them, with Feuilly scoring the lowest presence rating due to his jobs) and trying to make intelligent discussion.

  
Which is very difficult considering the kind of movies that Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Grantaire picks.

As Grantaire and Enjolras argues over the movie choice, Musichetta realizes that this is not about the movie at all, but about being all together like a group of friends and not like a group trying to change the world.

Being invited it's flattering, and it's amusing to find herself in a small room with other twelve people fighting for a spot to sit. It feels like being accepted, and Cosette and Eponine makes her sits between them and it's _nice_.

It's so nice that at half of the movie, she forgets she has been knowing them for only a little more than week and start to take part in the commentary, with a visible amusement from Courfeyrac and Grantaire.

Musichetta doesn't even know how they get to it, but at some point she can clearly hear Eponine saying to Marius and Bahorel. “Musichetta can read your hand, she read mine, I am not kidding.”

“You can read hands?” Marius seems excited, and his excitement summons Jehan from his discussion with Courfeyrac and he looks even more excited than the other.

“My mother taught me.” Musichetta gives Eponine an annoyed look, but the other girl just shrugs. “It's nothing but a pretty trick.”

“Well, I like pretty things.” Jehan exclaims enthusiastic. “You could...” he starts, but then he look down at his hand full of Grantaire's nervous doodles. “Never mind, you couldn't read it anything here.” he pouts a little, which earns him a kiss on the head from Courfeyrac.

“Next time Jehan, okay?” Musichetta says because seeing Jehan so sad is making her sad and she has to do something about it.

“Read mine!” Bossuet offers himself, a hand gently stretched out. “Maybe you can tell me why I am so unlucky.”

“It's because you are bald.” Grantaire says from the sofa, taking time to stop drinking to say that.

“Grantaire!” Eponine is half spread over the boy and shakes her head. “Obviously he's bald because he's unlucky, not the other way around.”

“Mh.” Grantaire frowns thinking about it. “I am not sure.”

“Do you mind?” Bossuet rolls his eyes. “It's my hair you are talking about!” he looks again at Musichetta. “Only if you want, of course.”

“I don't think I'd get the chance to get away from here without reading at least a hand.” Musichetta's voice is colored with a hint of laugh. She takes Bossuet's hand in his hers and starts looking at it for a long minute, tilting her head from side to side and murmuring something from time to time. “ _Oh._ ”

A cold shivers runs down Bossuet's spine at that sound. “What?” he asks worried. “What's the problem?”

“I am sorry.” Musichetta squeezes Bossuet's hand in a sympathetic gesture. “It seems like...Oh I am so so sorry...”

“Musichetta, what's the matter?” Bossuet glances over at Joly, quickly coming to his side. “Tell me.”

Musichetta sighs and then looks like the doctor giving to a patience a bad news “It's seems like you are going to live a long life and have a beautiful love story, but no hair.”

“Musichetta!” Bossuet says with indignation, but then he's laughing with everyone. “You evil woman, you scared me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Musichetta raises her hands in surrender. “I couldn't resist.”

“I like that girl!” Bahorel shouts from the other side of the room.

Joly places a kiss on Bossuet's bald head to calm him. “You are lucky I like you even without hair, then.”

“Hey, she said 'a beautiful love story', don't deny me that now!” Bossuet protests pulling Joly closer for a quick kiss.

Like Joly ever denied it in their lives, even when they risked everything because of their love.

“So who's next? I promise I'll be serious this time.” Musichetta asks looking around, then she's back at Bossuet and Joly. “What about you, Joly? Willing to share the experience with your boyfriend?”

Joly looks at the hand Musichetta is stretching out to him, palm up in a clear invitation to put his in her, and he's not sure he'll be able to endure the skin to skin contact once again.

It's Bossuet who pushes him closer to Musichetta, encouraging him, and Joly has no other choice.

While Musichetta reads his hand, he takes the opportunity to see her closer, to bask in her beauty for as long as he can.

“This is strange.” Musichetta whispers, her fingers moving on Joly's hand. “Never saw something like that.” she's not saying this out loud, but it's only between her and Joly, which mean she's serious.

“What?” Joly asks now curious.

“Your life-line is very messy, but the love one is most interesting, looking closer it seems you have it two at some point, two parallels lines.”

That's not strange, that's something very logical and Joly is not surprised, apparently his whole life -whole _lives_ \- are written on his hand.

“Your life is going to be troubled, but you should be fine.” Musichetta says out loud for everyone. “Good luck, you'll need it.”

“Then he chose the wrong boyfriend.” Courfeyrac points out innocently, before Bossuet throws a popcorn at him.

“Don't make that face.” Musichetta says to Joly noticing how he's staring at his own hand. “It's just a trick, don't take my words for real. What do you think, that I am a real witch?”

Joly snaps his head up and looks at Musichetta with wide eyes, a soft terror on his face. “No.” he chokes out, but he has to get away quickly and he makes his way to the balcony.

He takes deep breathes, the fresh air cleaning his lungs from the memory of the smoke that filled the air that night.

There are tears at the corner of his eyes and a lump in his throat, this time the memory is strong one, coming with a sense of nausea that he fights until he's sure he will not puke, or shout, or break down.

They burned her.  
They came into their house and took her away, accused her of witchcraft on the base of no real proof, and they burned her.  
They burned her.

And he saw her burn, he heard her screams at the flames ate her flesh, he called her again and again, as someone kept him away.

He watched unable to do anything but stare and feeling useless, alone, and lost.

The disgusting smell of burn flesh is still in his nostrils and the smoke is still making him impossible for him to breath centuries later.

Memories like this are awful, memories like this are like a punch in the stomach and it's only because he's used to it that he's able to calm down.

“Joly?” Bossuet calls worried, quickly by the other's side, a hand caressing Joly's back in soothing movements. “Are you okay? You look like you are going to faint. Do you want to go home?”

“I'm fine.” Joly says slowly. “I just needed some air, I'm better now.” it's not a lie after all. “But can you hug me? That would help me.”

Bossuet wraps his arms around Joly and hugs him gently, and Joly let himself relax in the familiar embrace.

  

* * *

 

 

That night, Musichetta wakes up in the middle of the night with her heart beating against her ribcage like a lion kept in a cage and in a minute she finds herself in the bathroom emptying her stomach, with cold sweat running to his back.

Her head is spinning and her hands are shaking when she stands up and looks at herself in the mirror trying to regain some control over her body.

For a moment she's not sure who is seeing in the reflection, because she's not sure who she is, or what the hell just happened.

The hot sun of Jerusalem burning her skin, the cold night of Paris biting at her bones, the fields of the Louisiana under her feet … the sensations are still hunting her even if she's awake.

She cleans her mouth with some water and let go a shaky sigh as she presses the palm of her hands to her eyes.

 _You are awake Musichetta, stop, it was just a bad, very complex and very confusing dream._ She tells herself but she doesn't believe it the slightly.

A dream is not supposed to be vivid or giving you a colossal headache, and a dream is not supposed to have the same boy as protagonist.

She leaves the bathroom and goes back to her room where she let body falls on the bed.

Breathe, in and out, in and out, again, again, and again.

Ghost fingers caress her shoulder, gently and reassuring, and Musichetta is not scared, because she knows that is a memory and that there is no ghosts in her room.

Someone used to do it, long time ago, someone who knew how to calm her down, someone who loved her deeply, someone who used to hold her tightly, someone that means the whole universe to her.

 _Joly_ , she thinks falling asleep again.

 

* * *

 

**Louisiana, May 24 th 1791**

The dawn comes slowly, welcomed by those who are already awake and at work, and gently waking up those who enjoyed themselves in their beds for a little more.

From the opened window the noises of the life in the property are as delicate as a background music, and familiar in a way that is reassuring.

Joly opens his eyes and there is already a smile on his lips, the smile of someone who has everything in the world and he's happy with his life; and why shouldn't be happy? After all in his simple life everything is perfect. He has a roof over his head, food, money, and the most amazing girl sleeping his arms.

Every time he breathes his chest press against Musichetta's back, remembering him that she's there, in his arms sleeping soundly, her long brown her tickling his naked skin, perfect as he remembers her.

He presses a chaste kiss to her cheek and caresses her naked shoulder, needing to feel her under his hands again but not wanting to disturb her peaceful sleep.

“Joly.” Musichetta says waking up, and the name on her lips has the sweetest taste.

“My dearest.” Joly greets with another kiss on her cheek, his heart filling with joy. “I didn't want to wake you up, forgive me.”

Musichetta laughs slowly, the sound echoing in her chest. “I was supposed to wake up, not to sleep the day.” she says. She's supposed to be in the kitchen with the other servants making the breakfast for the master's family, not to be naked under the sheets with the master's son. “Actually I should be somewhere else.”

“I don't think so.” Joly laughs and he holds her tighter. “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

“Oh, really?” Musichetta laughs again and rolls over so she can face the other and for a moment she's lost in his loving gaze. “And how do you know it, Monsieur?”

 _Because otherwise I wouldn't meet you again and again_ , Joly feels the answer almost slips from his lips, but instead he smiles even more and ran his fingers in Musichetta's hair. “Because, I am a man of extended knowledge.”

Musichetta arches her eyebrow smiling almost like a cat. “No, you are just a man, and like all men, you feel yourself validated only when you have a young woman naked beside you.” she says tracing with the tip of her fingers small circles on Joly's chest.

“I could be offended by such insinuation.” Joly frowns, but there is no real hurt in his voice, because Musichetta's insinuation is not made to harm.

“So you'd want to tell me you are not a man?” Musichetta taunts with a playful smile on the corner of her lips.

“After last night you wouldn't believe me.” Joly replies, a not-expressed laugh making his eyes shine.

Musichetta laughs for him and throws her head away; she never laughed this way before and Joly watch aghast for a moment, and then he has to kiss her or he'll die.

So he kisses her, deeply, with all the love he ever felt for her in his - _their_ \- previous lives, and she kisses him back, moved by that flame that burns all the lovers and force them to explore and experiment everything at once, because their lives are too short.

“I know you are where you are supposed to be.” Joly says, lips brushing against Musichetta's, “Because I love you and I know you love me too.”

Musichetta smiles, her eyes finding Joly's. “That's quite true.” she whispers. For a moment they stay like that, holding each other, lips brushing in lazy kisses, until she pulls away. “But I still have to work, and you are making me late.”

Musichetta is quick in getting out of the bed, but Joly is quick enough to stop her from going to away, and his hands closes around her wrist. “I'll let you go if you promise that you'll back to me tonight.”

Musichetta keeps the sheets up, covering her naked body, with one hand, and looks at the fingers around her wrist. “Why I wouldn't be back tonight?”

“And tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.” _For all the time this life will give us_. Joly orders. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

* * *

 

**Paris, May 1 st 2011**

 The view from the kitchen's window of the flat they share is not great, but somehow that's where Joly is stopped, lost in his thoughts and his memories, and where Bossuet finds him.

“Joly?” Bossuet calls, still half asleep, rubbing his bald head and noticing the figure by the window.

Joly turns, and he's back in the XXI century, leaving the fields of the Louisiana somewhere in the back of his mind. “Good morning.” he says forcing himself to smile.

Is considering cheating on your boyfriend remembering your past lives where he wasn't with you and you loved another girl? Tricky questions.

“Good morning.” Bossuet replies and suddenly he's very aware of his bare feet on the cold pavement and he's awake. “You look like you haven't sleep.” he states when he's closer.

“No, I did.” Joly reassures leaning forward to place a kiss on Bossuet's lips. “But It wasn't a very resting night, I guess.”

“You are sure you are not ill?” Bossuet frowns and he examine his boyfriend's face. “Because lately you have been strange.”

“I am sure.” Joly says with a smile. “Probably just a little bit of extra stress at the med school.” and memories of past lives coming back to hunt him.

“Take care of yourself, Joly.” Bossuet pleas, gently and caring. “Or I'll do it.” he adds with a small kiss.

“I'd like you to take care of me very much.” Joly says with a charming tone. “Maybe we should just ignore the world and stay at home today.”

“For how much I'd like it.” Bossuet starts wondering around the kitchen trying to find something to eat for breakfast. “Courfeyrac is taking me and Marius for a shopping adventure today.”

“Oh, then it's a no. I am not going to put myself between Courfeyrac and his shopping, I'd like to live a long life as my hand says.” Joly laughs knowing too much how much Courfeyrac takes seriously his role of fashion adviser.

Bossuet fills a bowl with milk and cereal (and a dose of sugar that made Joly rants about cavities and glycemia more than once.) then he looks at Joly taking a deep breath. “You are going to be fine, right? You are not dying or something, because in that case you would tell me, right?”

“Bossuet.” Joly blinks surprised by the serious tone in his boyfriend's voice. “I'm not going to die, don't worry.”

“Then what's wrong?” Bossuet asks simply. “Because something is not right Joly, I can tell, okay? You are scaring me...I want to help, If I can...”

That's exactly the moment when Joly realizes he has to tell Bossuet what's going on: that he has been nervous and strange because he doesn't know how to deal with Bossuet and Musichetta in the same lifetime.

He doesn't know how to love only one. He doesn't know how to not love one of them.

“I promise that I'll give you an explanation.” Joly says solemnly and he gives him his best smile. “But not right now, okay? I have to do something first.”

Bossuet is not entirely convinced, but he nods and let it go anyway, he trusts Joly and he knows that if it was something really important he would tell him. That's how they work.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 2 sd 2011**

Musichetta is tempted to just turn around and forget about the meeting, the Musain, Cosette, Eponine, and all the amazing guys she met in the stupid cafè, especially Joly, because she doesn't know what's wrong with her, but she doesn't want to see Joly.

But then she realizes that it's very stupid being afraid by some dreams -or memories, or _whatever_ \- and that she's not going to run away with the tail between her legs like some kind of coward.

When she enters the café and everyone welcomes her with warm smiles and hugs, she even thinks that she'll do it without problems, that sitting there and talking is nice and she will not have a single problem.

Then Joly enters the café, laughing and holding hands with Bossuet, and Musichetta would like to run: better to be a coward that face this.

The worst part are not the memories (if they are even true) awakened by Joly's sight, but the sharp pain of the jealousy she feels watching him and Bossuet together.

 _You don't even know the guy, you can't be jealous. And Bossuet is actually a sweetheart, how can you be jealous of him!_ , she thinks angrily at herself.

Her heart misses a beat when Joly looks at her while Bossuet hugs her and suddenly she knows.

Suddenly it's clear why he looked so strangely at her the first time, why he didn't want to let her hand go, why he kept looking at her.

_He remembers too._

At least, she's not crazy, or she's not the only one crazy, and whatever the hell is happening, it's not happening only to her and it's a big relief.

Joly is quickly involved in a discussion with Combeferre about something happened at school, so Bossuet decided to join Musichetta, who is currently checking a piece of paper that Grantaire put in her hands, before going back to his usual corner with Eponine.

“Oh, I see, R made you a drawing.” Bossuet says taking a seat. “He always does that with new people, he did it with Cosette too. He likes new faces.”

Musichetta turns her head towards Bossuet and can't stop herself from smiling. “I guess that as an artist he finds a new challenge in every new face.” she says. “What do you think, does this look like me?” she asks handing the paper to the other boy.

Grantaire is a great artist, even when his hand is not that steady because of alcohol, he has this talent to capture the people's essence with his pencil or colors, and it's a shame that he has only a vague ambition to share that talent with the world.

“Yes.” Bossuet replies scanning the drawing a few times. “Your forehead is not that high, the curve of your shoulder is more delicate, and your lips are fuller, but this is you, no doubt about it, that's definitely the way you look at people.”

A part of Musichetta is flattered by the fact that Bossuet is able to spot such differences. “And how do I look at people?”

“Like you are either ready to fight them or help them.” Bossuet declares giving the drawing back to the girl. “Sometimes I am not sure how can you do it.”

“Because people are always in need of help, but some of them are like wounded animals that attack trying to protect themselves.” Musichetta explains folding the paper with attention. “So I am ready to any possibilities.”

“Very smart.” Bossuet smiles and he decided that he really really likes Musichetta.

And somehow Musichetta is blushing because that's definitely a compliment. “Thank you.” she says.

Bossuet smiles again at her, before leaving to save Joly from Bahorel who decided that he's the next in the arm wrestling tournament, and Musichetta sits confused because there are butterflies in her stomach and _what the hell_.

She has been remembering past lives with Joly, remembering the way they used to make love...and Bossuet's smile is making her knees weak?

 _What the hell_ indeed.

* * *

 

**Paris, May 5 th 2011**

Someone said that soul-mates find each other in the end for they have the same hiding spot, but never in her life Musichetta would believe that her hiding spot was a bench in a park.

It was a sunny day and the most logical thing to do was going out and enjoy the sun for as long as possible, so Musichetta took a couple of books and put them in her bag, and left her house quickly.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one having that idea, because a little before eleven o' clock she spots Joly in a bench a few feet away from hers.

Her heart immediately makes a jump at the sight and Musichetta closes the book and hit her forehead with it, trying to force herself to be rational and reasonable.

She knows she should stand up and go to him, she knows they have a lot of things to discuss, and that she lost the opportunity to do it at the Musain the previous days, but her legs don't obey her brain and she stays there staring at Joly.

What if she's just crazy? What if her memories are not even memories at all but some bad joke of her mind? Joly seems a nice guy, she doesn't want to jeopardy their blooming friendship like this. And what the others would think of her if they find out?

 _But what if it's true?_ A part of her asks innocently. _Does you really want to lose Joly because you are too afraid?_

She finally stands up and walk towards Joly, realizing that there is nothing wrong in greeting a friend when you see him around. This seems to give the right amount of confidence to start a conversation.

“Hello, Joly.”

Joly looks up from his own book and for a moment he can feel himself quietly panicking. He should be used to have Musichetta around at this point, but every time he sees her there are too many memories and sensation coming back to him like a back fire.

“Musichetta!” he doesn't even have to pretend to be surprised. “It's nice to see you around. How are you?”

Musichetta doesn't want for an invitation and sits next to Joly. “I am fine.” she lies because that question always requires a lie. “Enjoying the nice weather.”

“I was doing the same.” Joly informs, he puts away his own book and look at the girl. “Sometimes it's a nice idea to change landscape when one has to study.”

“So, where is Bossuet?” Musichetta asks half interested and half only making a casual conversation.

“Job hunting.” Joly explains. “He has been kicked out of school for reasons and so he decided that it was easier to find a job anyway.”

“I can ask my father.” Musichetta says quickly, not even sure where that idea came from. “We have a café, the Corinthe, I am working there too, but a little help would be appreciated.”

“That would be amazing! Thank you Musichetta.” Joly exclaims and before he can think about it, he's hugging her.

The shock of the hug makes Musichetta pulls away abruptly, and she looks at Joly with something close to fear as her breath is short.

“I am sorry.” Joly murmurs adverting his eyes. “I tend to take liberties with people and to be too friendly...”

Musichetta feels her cheek flush for a moment. “No, sorry, I shouldn't have...non that way.” she shakes her head. “You did nothing wrong.”

Joly mentally curses because he has been know this Musichetta for a couple of weeks and they are not even close to this term of friendship, and he should really stop making a fool of himself.

“Joly.” Musichetta calls resting a hand gently on Joly's shoulder. “There is something I have to tell you, I'll ever find a better moment that this.” a moment when their bodies so close made her believe that Time is nothing but a world and the centuries between her memories and now are nothing. “Promise me you'll not think I am crazy, first.”

Joly looks back at Musichetta, frowning. “I would never believe you are crazy. You can tell me anything.”

How can she say it without sounding mad? Musichetta takes a deep breath and waits a few second to stead the beating of her heart and decides that the best way is to be as direct as possible. “I remember.”

For centuries Joly hoped to hear those words, for centuries he waited for a moment like this, and finally it's happening, finally he's not alone in this.

He looks at Musichetta like a blind man would look at the sun after years of darkness, as it's the most beautiful thing in the whole creation.

“You remember.” he whispers, a hand shyly touching one of Musichetta's cheek. He doesn't have to ask what she remembers, he simply knows.

“I remember.” Musichetta repeats with more conviction, relieved that she was right and Joly remembers too. She presses his hand against her face and tilt her head to enjoy the sensation to be touched by those loved and loving hands. “Jerusalem, Paris, New Orleans, I remember Joly, I remember being there with you.”

Joly takes Musichetta back in his arms, holding her tight, and she clings on him, and for a while that's all they need, being together again.

“Musichetta.” Joly whispers like a prayer. “Oh Musichetta you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I have so many questions.” Musichetta announces. “I am still a little bit confused, but I am so glad to know that I am not crazy.”

“No, you are not.” Joly laughs and he collects his things quickly. “Come on, let's walk, we...” he stares at Musichetta for a moment. “There is so much I need to tell you.” he offers her a hand. “You'll probably get bored of the sound of my voice.”

Musichetta takes Joly's hand and let him help her to stand up, the simple touch giving her an indescribable joy. “I don't think that could ever happen.”

Despite everything, they walk in silence for five minutes, too excited and scared to actually say anything. There are so many things to say that it's impossible to decide where to start, and there is a kind of embarrassment between them, none of them sure how to act now.

“So...” Musichetta starts cleaning her throat. “When did you remember?”

“When you came to the Musain the first time. I saw you and I knew it was you, I had no doubt, I always know that it's you.” Joly replies quickly. “And you? I am sure you didn't remember that day.”

“No.” Musichetta shakes her head. “I remember the night I read your hand, once at home. It was horrible, I remembered everything at the same time, like in a dream, and I woke up like after the worst nightmare. It felt like I was going to die soon.”

Joly gives Musichetta's hand a gentle squeeze. “I know what you mean, it happened to me too.”

“You didn't look ill when we met.” Musichetta points out confused.

“Not with you.” Joly says embarrassed. “You...are not the only person I met in some of my past lives, Musichetta.”

Musichetta blinks surprised, this is definitely unexpected. “Oh? There is someone else?” but as soon as she phrase the question, she knows the answer. “Bossuet?”

“Bossuet.” Joly nods simply. “When I met him I didn't get my memories with him back immediately, it happened when I realized I was in love with him. I spent three days in bed with the worst fever ever. You were lucky.”

"I was, yes.” Musichetta comments considering that the morning after she was feeling rather well. “So, Bossuet too...?”

“I always meet you two, never in the same lifetime, but it's either him or you, no one else.” Joly explains gently. “But you two never remember, while I always do for some unknown reason.”

“He doesn't remember?” Musichetta stops, forcing Joly to stop with her since they are still holding hands.

“Not the smallest thing.” Joly sighs heavily “I lost hope about it after a couple of years together, if nothing triggered his memories until now, nothing will. I am surprised something triggered yours, to be honest -no, I am relieved, and happy, definitely happy.”

"It must be horrible to have memories of a life with someone and that someone not remembering.” Musichetta whispers looking at Joly with empathy.

“Now you know why this is so important to me.” Joly says seriously.

Musichetta feels the urge to kiss away the sadness on Joly's face, because the Joly in her memories has always a laugh on his lips and she wants to see it again, but there is Bossuet, and she can't, so instead she quickly kisses his cheek.

“I remembered and you said I never did, maybe he will remember. Maybe not in this life time, but someday.” she says because it's what Joly needs to hear right now. “Don't lose your hope, Joly, okay?”

“I missed this.” Joly admits honestly. “Your wisdom and you ability to never give up. I never met anybody else so resolute in centuries.”

Musichetta blushes slightly, then she smirks. “You are right, there is no-one like me, only me. That's probably why I keep coming back: the universe needs me.”

Joly laughs wrapping an arm around Musichetta's shoulder. “I missed your self-confidence as well.” he says.

Musichetta laughs gently, her body involuntary relaxing against Joly's side. “Of course you missed it, you'd be lost without me.” she tilts her head to look up at him.

“That's quite true.” Joly agrees looking down at her. His whole body seems to come alive with the need to kiss her, but he fights against it, even if it's visibly difficult. “So, what's your favorite life so far?” he asks instead.

* * *

 

**Paris, May 10 th 2011**

Bossuet arrives at the Corinthe a good ten minutes before his appointment with Musichetta, but the last thing he wants to do is to be late and make a bad impression on Musichetta's parents and, hopefully, future employers.

The Corinthe is apparently smaller than the Musain, but the walls have been painted recently, making the building look fresh and new, even if the sign proudly says that the café itself is a couple of century old.

A blackboard is filled with the special of the day and Bossuet recognizes Musichetta's handwriting, even if he saw it only once during a meeting when she was writing something down for Cosette.

Musichetta is also early, because Bossuet is barely done with his inspection when she arrives, joining him on the sidewalk.

“Bossuet!” She calls with a big smile on her lips. “Your luck can be that bad if you arrived here early.”

“Already joking on my lucky, Musichetta?” Bossuet greets the girl with a hug. “You are really becoming one of us.”

“I do my best.” Musichetta winks. “So shall we go inside? I promise it will not be that bad, you'll be my shadow for a couple of days and I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Nothing that requires being with you can be bad, Musichetta.” Bossuet says, his tone leaving no room for objection. “Lead the way.”

Again Musichetta's heart does that funny thing that makes no sense and the girl decide to simply ignore it and enters the café.

Well, she tries really hard to ignore it, but during the day is not easy, because Bossuet is really her shadow, she can feel his eyes on her to learn how to deal with the customers or use the machines, and sometimes Musichetta is really close to snap at him and tell him to pay attention to what she's doing at not her.

But having Bossuet all for herself for hours is too nice to just give up on it, they have a perfect complicity made of small jokes and shared laughs, and at the end of the day Musichetta realizes that she's not tired as usual.

It's only one day, and she is somehow scared of the effect that having Bossuet around has on her, she's so scared that for a moment she hopes her parents will tell Bossuet that he will not get the job, but they seems perfectly fine with him.

When they close, and Bossuet says goodbye to her with a light and chaste kiss on her cheek, the butterflies are back in her stomach.

It's a good thing they don't have a meeting or a movie night, because she only wants to close herself in her room and ignore the universe until these feelings are gone.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 14 th 2011**

“You have to tell Bossuet, he has a right to know.”

Joly sighs and rests his chin on the palm of his hand and looks at Musichetta sitting on the other side of the small table in the kitchen of the apartment he share with Bossuet -who is currently having his first shift without Musichetta at the Corinthe.

“You know I am right.” Musichetta insists. “He's worried about you and I am sure he will understand.”

“He'll think I am crazy.” Joly protests, but Musichetta is right, he can't go on like this, keeping everything from Bossuet. They never had secret and he doesn't want to start, not now.

“He loves you, he'll understand.” Musichetta says. “Hell, he loved you in more than one life! You have all the assurance you need! _Tell him_.”

“If I tell him about this reincarnation or rebirth or whatever this thing is,” Joly starts moving his hands in the air. “I'll have to tell him about us too.”

“And what's the matter?” Musichetta leans forwards, placing her elbow on the table. “I have been there, Joly, I am jealous of you two, _yes_ , but I can assure you I don't feel like you are cheating on me or something. I understand this is another life.”

“You are jealous?” Joly ignores the rest of the conversation focusing on that bit. “I didn't think...”

“You didn't think!” Musichetta exclaims surprised. “After all we have been trough in our past lives you didn't think I would be jealous of the fact that you are with someone else?”

“I...” Joly frowns. “I really have no idea what I was thinking, to be honest...”

“Well, I am jealous Joly, because I...” she shallows down the words, “Because we have a history, but I understand you chose him in this life, it's fine. So really, I can tell you he'll be fine.”

“I didn't choose him.” Joly whispers before he can stop himself. “I saw him and I thought you weren't here, there wasn't a choice. I never had to choice. This is the first time you are both here.”

“You are not going to break up with him only because I remember and he doesn't.” Musichetta warns serious. “ _Tell him._ ”

“I really have no intention to break up with him.” Joly says. They had worse life, they had to face society so much worse than this. For once they can love each other openly, under the sun, and he's not going to give up on that. He's not going to give up on the chance to love freely and not behind locked doors with the fears of being find and arrested or _worse_. “But at the same time I can't ignore the fact you are here. I can't.”

“That's why you have to explain everything to him.” Musichetta insists once again. “So he will understand. If you are not going to tell him, I'll do it.”

“You wouldn't.” Joly looks at Musichetta concerned.

“Think about all the lives we spent together and tell me if you really think that I wouldn't.” Musichetta shrugs simply.

“Okay, you would.” Joly agrees with a sigh. “But I'd rather do it, you have no idea what we have been through.”

“If it's similar to what we have been through it's not pleasant.” Musichetta stands up and move to the side of the table where Joly is sitting. “Do you think that the love we had it's worth coming back and remembering everything that hurt us in our past lives?”

Joly wraps an arm around Musichetta's waist and gently put her on his lap. “I think so.” he hides his face in the crock of her neck. “Every time I realize that I am the only one remembering it hurts, the only reason why I learned to live with this burden is because I could watch you two fall in love with me again and again and it is worth everything.”

Musichetta runs her fingers in Joly's hair, gently. “Every life is easier.” she says. “Falling in love with you, I mean. Maybe we never remember, but I am sure every life leaves something on our souls that makes everything less complicated and more... natural.”

“I agree.” Joly whispers. “This time I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you.” it doesn't even feel odd to say, because really, after centuries, it's probably the most obvious things in the universe. Joly loves Musichetta, it's a matter of fact.

“I was talking about me and Bossuet, you idiot.” Musichetta rolls her eyes. “This time it took me just a little bit more than a week. I'm sure it's a record.”

Joly laughs and looks up at the girl. “Yes, it is.” but then the laugh is over and he sighs. “Do you realize that next time we'll meet we'll remember this?”

Musichetta sighs too and nods. “I do.” she didn't realize at first, but then it hit her that next time she will remember a life when she wasn't able to love Joly and it seems so unnatural, so strange...”Maybe we should do something to make the memories less bitter.”

“Musichetta...” Joly warns shaking slightly his head. He will not to anything that could ruin his relationship with Bossuet, because then he will have to remember that too, and he's not sure he'll be able to. “I'll be there for you, but...we can't.”

“A kiss.” Musichetta says simply. “I am not asking you much, just one kiss. Nobody will ever find out, and next life I'll remember that you loved me, even if you gave your heart to someone else.”

It's not such an unreasonable request, Joly knows that, especially because he wants to kiss her and a part of him knows one day it will happen anyway, but at least he can control when make it happens, and the situation seems harmless enough, and Bossuet will not be home for hours, so really it's the best moment. “You could make anyone say yes to anything, it's not fair.”

Musichetta laughs “Maybe that's why the universe never let me remember before, because I am not scared of using all my persuasion ...”

“Maybe.” Joly agrees smiling. “Seems a good reason to me.”

“Are you done talking? I want to go to the part where you kiss me.”

And since Joly is done talking, he kisses Musichetta, and the part of him that still had second thoughts, gives up as soon as their lips meet, because there is no doubt they were made to kiss and love each other.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 17 th 2011**

Working with Musichetta is the best thing that happened to Bossuet since meeting Joly; it doesn't even look like working, but spending time with a very good friend, and he knows for once he has been lucky. _Really_ lucky.

He also knows that he has never been so interested in a female friend and that Cosette and Eponine (especially the latter) would get mad at him because he likes Musichetta better than them, but there is something about her that charms Bossuet.

It's not his fault if she's perfect, from the way she laughs to the way she rolls her eyes annoyed when a difficult customers doesn't look at her, from the witty comments she whispers to his ear passing by, to the way she can be reassuring and calm.

When it's time to close, he approaches her and taps on her shoulder with a finger.

“Yes?” Musichetta turns her head and immediately smiles when she sees Bossuet.

Bossuet offers her a small chocolate. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Musichetta frowns with a smile on her lips, her face heating up. She takes the chocolate almost automatically

“One month ago you entered the Musain and we became friends.” Bossuet explains. “It was a good day, so it was worth celebrating.”

“That's...” Musichetta looks at the chocolate and she's sure she's blushing. “Nice, really really nice.” maybe too nice. She really start to see why Joly fell in love with Bossuet and it's not good. Also, she's feeling bad because he kissed Joly now.

A knocking on the door of the shop ruins the moment, with big relief from Musichetta who quickly moves to the door, where a late costumers is trying desperately to enter, even if the door is locked.

“I'm sorry!” Musichetta unlock the door and open it just enough to put her head out. “We are closed.”

Bossuet watched the scene with his arms crossed over his chest with curiosity, it takes Musichetta a few minutes to convince the guy that they are closed and no they will not let him inside, not even for two minutes, _we are sorry_.

“ _Non licet omnibus adire Corinthum_.” Bossuet says amused “Not everyone is allowed to reach Cortinthum.”

“What is that from?” Musichetta asks surprised. “I didn't know you knew latin.”

Bossuet frowns, looking troubled. “I don't.” he admits. “I must have heard it somewhere.” he shrugs, deciding to not pay too much intention about it.

“At least it was fitting with the situation.” Musichetta says, deciding to not pay attention about it either, and trust Bossuet.

* * *

 

**Paris,** **Octobe** **r 4** **th** **1830**

Joly put his right hand in the pocket of his jacket searching for the key to his rooms, and after a couple of minutes he finds it.

The door unlock with a sharp sound and Joly pushes it open, enters into the apartment, and then it closes it behind himself.

“Bossuet?” he calls adjusting better the book under his arm.

“Here.” Bossuet answers emerging from the kitchen with an apple half eaten in one hand. “How was med school?”

Joly leave the book on a chair next the door and walk to Bossuet. “Exciting as always.” he replies with a smile. He brings Bossuet into a quick hug followed by a peck on his lips. “What have you done today?”

“Nothing much. I had a very interesting chat with your landlady.” Bossuet tells with a smile. “She's a lovely woman.”

“I think she likes you a lot.” Joly takes off his jacket, remaining in shirt and waistcoat, matching Bossuet's outfit. “Well, I can't really blame her for that, can I?” he adds giving Bossuet an eloquent look.

“She thinks you are a saint because you let me crush here every so often.” Bossuet shakes his head. Every so often is not even the right term: he's always at Joly's place, and the only reason why he asks for asylum to Jehan, or Bahorel, or Feuilly, it's only because he doesn't want to be too obvious.

“Let her think that.” Joly recommends, even if it's not necessary. “We can't risk her suspecting anything.” he adds stealing the apple from Bossuet's hand and biting down on it.

“I know.” Bossuet nods. He's not stupid, he knows that they are playing with fire every day. “Hey! That was my apple.”

“No, it was _my_ apple, you were only eating it.” Joly corrects sitting on the couch and kicking off his shoes.

“It's the same thing. You should really stop sitting next to Combeferre during your lessons, his rhetoric is dangerous.” Bossuet sighs crossing his arms over his chest and stepping in front of Joly. “Soon you'll help him revise the dictionary.”

Joly let out a small laugh and pats the spot beside him. “You are very well aware that I'd never spend my free time with Combeferre when I can spend it with you.”

Bossuet sometimes wishes he could ignore the way Joly's laugh makes him tingle inside, the way winch that sound makes him smile every time, but he thinks that if he could be able to, he wouldn't be himself. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 17 th 2011**

A scream wakes up Joly; after just a moment of confusion, his arms reaches for the other side of the bed. He blindly grabs Bossuet's arm. “Bossuet?” he asks alarmed.

Bossuet's breath is quick and he doesn't react to Joly's touch and words, he just stares in front of him, eyes wide open, sweat gluing his shirt to his back.

“Bossuet.” Joly tries again, he sits up matching Bossuet's position. “Bossuet.” his hands moves to the other's boy shoulder. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Bossuet turns his head and looks at Joly, and the sight would ease any pain and fear, but it only happens him to remember him how scared Joly looked in his dream. “Just...a nightmare.” he says, more to himself than Joly. “It was just very...real.”

The damn sensation of hope that Bossuet remembered is back and Joly can't swallow it down before it's too late and for a glorious moments he hopes. “Why don't you tell me about it?”

Bossuet let Joly help him lie down on the bed again, and relaxes in Joly's embrace for a while before gathering the courage to tell about his nightmare. “We were in Paris, but it was in the ninth century. We lived together, well not all the time, but mostly, and the others were there too, we were all friends in the dream too, and we still met at the Musain, but to make revolutionary plans. We also took place in the June Rebelion ,you know the one that Enjolras likes so much, but...you know how that ended, right? We died, but it wasn't the worst thing: it was horrible because I felt all the fear and the pain, it was so concrete that it woke me up because for a moment I really thought I was dying for real.” he let go a shaky breath. “It was a strange dream, it felt like years and years passed, like a movie.”

Joly holds Bossuet as he speaks, placing small kisses on his face trying to calm him down, trying to not get his hopes to high, but it's useless. When he realizes that Bossuet's dream is only a dream (he doesn't remember being alive during the June Rebelion and he would) he can't stop feeling somehow betrayed.

“It was just a dream.” he says instead, using a soothing tone and holding Bossuet closer. “We are still all pretty much alive.”

“Yes” Bossuet agrees; for good measure he rests his head on Joly's chest in order to hear his heartbeat. Definitely alive. “I really would like if we could stay that way, dying -even if only in a dream- is awful.”

“Don't worry.” Joly says. “Just try to go back to sleep, now.”

Bossuet falls asleep quite easily, feeling safe in his lover's arms; Joly on the other hand stares at the ceiling for some time, trying to shut his disappointment. If only he could stop wishing that Bossuet would remember, everything would be easier, but this time they were so close and he never felt so disappointed and alone.

The only reason why he doesn't get up and call Musichetta is because he doesn't want to hurt her and bring the pain in their next life.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 20 th 2011**

Joly turns his head to the door for the tenth time, hoping to see Bossuet enter from it, but for the tenth time Bossuet doesn't shows up, and he starts to feel very uneasy. It's not like Bossuet to be late at a meeting, and he knows that even with the shift at the Corinthe he's supposed to arrive in time.

Musichetta keeps her eyes fixed on Joly, on the way he checks his watch and then the door, and she can clearly see the apprehension on Joly's face. She would lie if she would tell that she doesn't feel that apprehension as well, not after what Joly told her about Bossuet's nightmare and how he has been edgy and nervous since then.

“Have you tried calling him?” Jehan asks to Joly, suddenly. Apparently someone else recognized the strange behavior of Joly.

“Yes, he doesn't answer.” Joly replies, his eyes still at the door, not even remotely on Jehan.

“We should go and search for him.” Musichetta says suddenly. She may have not know Bossuet in her lives, but she have know Joly, and she trusts him.

Joly thinks about it for a moment: Bossuet never disappeared like this in this or other lives, it's not a normal behavior for him, and a part of him -the one that knots his stomach with anxiety- is telling him that he underestimated that nightmare.

“Let's go.” he says nodding to Musichetta. “If it's nothing, we'll just be here with him soon anyway, so...”

“Let us know if he's okay.” Jehan says to the two before they stand up and leave the Musain.

When Enjolras frowns and ask what happened, is Jehan the one replying, and Joly is really grateful for his good heart, because he doesn't want to waste time explaining what happened and why he's so worried.

Musichetta gives a gentle squeeze to Joly's hand. “He'll be fine.” she reassures. “Probably he's just late because his luck.”

Joly smiles a little, but has no heart to do more. Musichetta's hand in his gives him a little bit of hope and a little bit of strength, and that's barely enough to fight the bad feeling making him nervous.

 

* * *

 

An hour and half later, Joly gives up on the search and decides to go back home and just wait for Bossuet -or any news of Bossuet-; Musichetta tried to go with him, but he refused telling her that she did already enough, and she let him go only after the promise of calling her if anything happened.

He's dead scared, they searched for Bossuet in all the place he could be: at work, at the library, even in the café where they used to meet before school when they were younger, but Bossuet is nowhere to be found.

The flat is quiet, exactly like it was the first time they went there hoping that maybe Bossuet was back, and Joly sighs heavily knowing that all he can do is wait. Then the familiar cracking of the old couch in the living room gets is attention and Joly _knows_.

“Bossuet!” he runs - _literally run_ _s_ \- in the living room where Bossuet is sitting on the couch.

“Bossuet” Joly repeats once again, wrapping his arms around Bossuet and hugging him, kneeling on the couch.

“Joly” Bossuet sounds both surprised and relieved to see the other and just let the other hug him. It's better than hugging himself trying not to really panic.

“I was worried.” Joly says. “You didn't show up at the Musain, and you aren't answering your damn phone!”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Bossuet whispers embarrassed. “I was coming to the meeting, but around halfway I realized I couldn't do it and I kinda panicked.”

“You panicked?” Joly pulls away enough to look at Bossuet, frowning in confusion. “Because of the nightmare?”

Bossuet nods simply, feeling like he biggest idiot on Earth for feeling so scared of a nightmare. “I can't stop thinking about it, and what if I remember it even better seeing the other? What if... I see them covered in blood like in my nightmare?”

“Oh, Bossuet...” Joly says gently. He definitely misunderstood the entity of the nightmare, and he hates himself for it. “Do you feel better now?”

“I don't know.” Bossuet admits clinging to Joly searching for any kind of support. “Every time I think about that nightmare I feel like I wanna cry and hide, it doesn't fade away.” his voice cracks as he looks at Joly. “Why doesn't it go away?”

Joly has the answer, he had it since the night of the nightmare, but he thought it couldn't be possible only because he didn't remember. Musichetta doesn't remember that she has been burnt for witchcraft after all, maybe he doesn't remember all their lives as he thoughts. “We need to talk.”

“I really don't like the sound of that.” Bossuet warns. Probably nobody does, it only means trouble.

“Don't worry.” Joly says quickly. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“You are lying.” Bossuet says simply.

Joly can't stop the small laugh escaping from his lips. “You always know when I am lying, it's not fair.”

Bossuet smiles and he relax resting his head on Joly's shoulder "So? What you have to tell me?"

Joly takes a deep breath and re-orders his idea. With Musichetta it has been easy, but now he can't find the proper words. "What if I tell you that you didn't have a nightmare, but you...well, you remembered a past life?"

Bossuet blinks confused. "Joly if this is one of your jokes..." he starts not even paying really attention to Joly's words.

"I am serious, Bossuet." Joly says with the most serious tone he can use. "I would never make fun of you in this condition."

"Okay...Let's say i want to believe it for a moment, how did you get to the conclusion that I remembered a past life?"

“Because I know how it feels.” Joly says simply. “Because I remember a lot of past lives and...I know how scary it is and how shocking is for the body.”

Bossuet looks at Joly surprised,“Okay you are not joking.”

“I am not.” Joly takes one of Bossuet's hand in his. “I know it sounds crazy, _I know it_ , but this is not our first life, not the first we spend together. Somehow we born, we find each other, we fall in love, we die, we born again and the cycle goes on and on. And trust me remembering it every time is not pleasant.”

The first thing Bossuet thinks is that Joly is crazy, that he hit his head and they need to take care of the damage as soon as possible, but he knows when Joly's he serious, and Joly has on his face the same expression he had the first time he said to him _I love you_ : he's serious, nervous, and scared to be rejected, and yet there is only honesty in his eyes.

“I believe you.” he decides. “So...we...really died on the barricade?”

“That's where it becomes tricky.” Joly starts. “Between all the lives I remember, I don't remember being alive during the June Rebellion.”

“Then how can you say I am remembering?” Bossuet frowns confused.

“Because I know how it feels to remember a past life, I told you. And I trust you.” Joly explains. “Mostly because that's the only explanation.”

“That really sounds crazy, you know it?” Bossuet asks serious. A part of him is telling that Joly is telling the truth, but then the rational part of him is telling him that this is total madness, that people dies once and for all, there is no second chance, no second life or anything like that.

“I know.” Joly sighs. “But I need you to believe, I've been waiting for you to remember for a lot of lives.”

“You have been waiting.” Bossuet repeats and he can feel the sadness in Joly's voice. “And yet I am not even remembering something you remember.” he shakes his head. “Just the kind of luck you'd expect from me.”

Joly smiles and kiss the top of Bossuet's head. “It's okay, at least you are remembering and you don't think I am just crazy. I can talk with you openly without being scared.”

Bossuet turns his head and place a chaste kiss on Joly's lips. Somehow now everything is fine, because everything was real, because he can cope with a memory, because there is nothing wrong with him since he's not freaking out for a common nightmare. (Okay maybe the whole reincarnation thing is a little bit strange, but that's not a real problem.) “Tell me about the lives I don't remember.”

Joly knows he should probably tell him about Musichetta, but that can wait for now, so he spends the night telling Bossuet everything he wanted to tell him since the first day he remembered.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 21 th 2011**

“You haven't told him about us?” Musichetta rolls her eyes. “What are you waiting for?”

“It's not that simple!” Joly exclaims trying to keep his voice low so that the Corinthe customers will not overhear their conversation. “It was a shock knowing about the whole story, the last thing he needed was to know about us!”

“But you are going to tell him, right?” Musichetta asks frowning.

“At the right time.” Joly answers seriously. “And I want you to be there.”

“You want me to be there when you'll tell him about us?” Musichetta shakes her head. She likes Bossuet and she doesn't want to see his reaction and feeling bad for something she did in another century. “No way.”

“So you rather want me to say him now and wait to find out his reaction later? Can you go home and wait to know how he reacted?”

Musichetta sees herself in her room unable to do anything because she's worried and nervous, she sees herself waiting for a call or a text or _anything_ from Bossuet telling her that they are still friends. “Okay, I'll be there” she gives up. Better be there and try to fix everything immediately than wait for the aftermath of the disaster.

Joly smiles and pulls Musichetta into a hug. “Together we can do this.” he whispers.

“You are telling this to yourself.” Musichetta point out simply.

Since it's true, Joly doesn't reply, instead he gives her a kiss on the cheek. “You have always been my strength 'Chetta, I'd be lost without you.”

Musichetta blushes and find a way to keep her hands busy cleaning a mug, she hates when Joly is so sweet, because it's a torture, she's in love but she can't have him and this is killing her slowly.

“Without me you would have Bossuet, you'd be perfectly fine.”

“And now I have you two together.” Joly says with a smile. “What could ever go wrong?”

Musichetta waits for a second, then blinks, then simply shrugs. “Everything?”

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 25 th 2011**

Joly moves around the living room back and forth, muttering a list of all the possible reaction of Bossuet, and Musichetta tries her best to ignore him, focusing on a baking book she took from the kitchen. Apparently Bossuet had a passion for baking cakes, but once he almost set fire to himself and decided that it wasn't worth the risk.

“He will be angry.” Joly whispers. “Because I keep it from him.”

“He will be relieved.” Musichetta sighs and closes the book. “Everything will make sense so everything will be fine. Don't worry.”

Joly frowns and stops and gives Musichetta a perplexed look. “You are not the one that has to tell your boyfriend that you have loved someone else in different lives and that that someone else is sitting on his couch now.”

“I don't want to hurt Bossuet either, Joly.” Musichetta replies calmly. God knows how much she likes the guy (the answer is way too much), “But we have to tell him because we care about him.”

“I know!” Joly starts walking again, ignoring the slight sense of nausea that pacing the floor is giving him.

“Joly, you love him, that's everything that matters. Relax.” Musichetta orders.

“Yes, but I also love you and at the moment that matters even more.” Joly mutters.

Musichetta stares at Joly for a long moment, to the point that the silence between them force Joly to stop and look at her. “You...haven't told me this in this life yet.” she explains feeling her face on fire and her heart ache.

“I thought it was...obvious.” Joly says, he kneels next to Musichetta. “'Chetta I will always love you, in all our lives, no matter if the society is against us or we have to hide, I don't care. I love you, that's really one of the few constant of my whole existence.”

Musichetta sighs, she wishes that Joly could stop smile so tenderly at her because he's not helping at all. “I hate you sometimes.” she says standing up. “How is a girl supposed to resist you when you talk like that?”

Joly stands up and follows Musichetta. “You could never resist me.” he says hugging her from behind. “That's the point, after all.”

Despite everything Musichetta laughs and she turns in the embrace so she can face Joly. “I guess you are right, but don't be so full of yourself.”

“But you like that.” Joly says innocently.

“You didn't change that much from Louisiana, did you?” Musichetta ask arching her eyebrow and batting her eyelashes. “Always the spoiled son of the master.”

“You still loved me back then, so this argument is invalid.” Joly says simply.

“Did I already said that I hate you?” Musichetta asks, her voice still gently.

“Yes, but I decided to ignore it.” Joly whispers and before he can stop himself or think properly, he leans forward and kisses Musichetta on the lips.

Musichetta is afraid she will melt right there, in Joly's arms, burnt by the sweet kiss, or that she will have a heart attack because she never felt her heart beat so fast.

This is how Bossuet finds them, and the sight struck him to the point that his body refuses to obey to the order to turn and go far away from the scene. Then the memory comes.

It's just a sensation of familiarity at first, enough to make it him at ease, then it comes the voices, voices so dear to him that he tries to grasp them just to indulge in the sounds, but he follows them deeper than intended and the XXI century fade away and he's once again in his nightmare – his memory.

And then Bossuet _remembers_.  
This already happened.

He already saw Joly kissing Musichetta, a long time ago, and more than once, but there is no sign of any kind of jealousy in the memory. Or in the present.

“Bossuet!”

Joly's voice breaks the spell and the small wooden room they shared in Paris centuries ago is again the flat they rent the summer after their degrees.

Musichetta now is sure she will die because she can't breath anymore. Or she will die because being caught kissing Joly has never been this embarrassing. Anyway she is definitely positive she will get out of the flat alive.

“Bossuet I...” Joly doesn't know what to say. He ruined everything. This is not how things were supposed to go. Not like this, never like this, this is cruel, this is unfair. This is hurting Bossuet without a reason. “I am sorry, believe me I..I can explain!”

“I am sure you can.” Bossuet whispers. He's not jealous, but he's confused because clearly there is something missing, something he really don't understand. “Is this what you wanted to talk about with me?”

“Yes.” Joly says quickly. “I mean -no! Not exactly.” he would like to run in Bossuet's arms and explain everything later, but he's not sure Bossuet would like the idea of being touched by him after what he saw.

“You should take a seat.” Musichetta suggests unable to look at Bossuet now. What an idiot she has been. And now she will remember this for centuries – awesome.

“You look pale.” Joly notices finally. “Are you...okay?”

“I had a...” Bossuet gives Musichetta a look not sure how freely he can speak with her around. “I was _remembering_ something.” he says stressing the verb so that Joly will understand.

Joly takes the hint and he offers a chairs to Bossuet. “How bad was this memory?”

Bossuet laughs because he doesn't know. How bad is to find your boyfriend kissing one of your dearest friends and then remembering that it already happened? Once can be an error, but in _two_ lives? There is a pattern and he doesn't know if he likes it.

“Bossuet?” Joly calls again. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” Bossuet asks stopping suddenly to laugh.

“It was still a memory of the June Rebellion lifeline?” Musichetta asks before this thing can become even worse. They already screwed up enough for her taste.

“How do you know?” Bossuet frowns, then he looks at Joly. “You told her?” when they became so intimate that they could talk about such things about reincarnation?

“I can explain that too.” Joly reassure. “Now sit, please.” this time he stops over think and forces Bossuet to sit on the chair. “It's not an easy talk and we already started in the worst way possible, let's try to make it easier from now.”

“I like your positive attitude.” Musichetta comments ironically.

“I am listening.” Bossuet informs. What else could he do right now? He can only hope the explanation will be good enough and that will fix everything.

“Wonderful.” Joly nervously tries to start the speech three times before giving up with a sigh. “You and I aren't the only one lived more than one life. Musichetta is like us.”

“Charming.” Musichetta mutters under her breath. Next time -next life- she will be the one making this speech because Joly clearly can't do it on his own.

“I know.” Bossuet says simply. “That's what I remembered.” he says to Joly.

Now is Joly the one that needs to sit down, but he decides he can wait. “You remembered Musichetta?” he asks cautiously. This is new and as always, new means bad about this kind of things.

“But...” Musichetta sounds lost. “I am sure I wasn't alive during the June Rebellion.”

“You were.” Bossuet tells her seriously. “I wouldn't confuse you with anyone else, Musichetta, trust me.”

“But I was alive too.” Joly whispers to himself. “Okay I give up, what the hell is happening? We aren't supposed to be all alive in the same life!”

“I don't see the problem?” Bossuet frowns. “We are now and we were back then, what's the matter?”

Musichetta turns her head to Joly and crosses her arms on her chest. “Seems like all your assumptions were wrong, Joly.”

“They aren't.” Joly states. “They can't be.” he knows what he remembers and he knows that it's always either Musichetta or Bossuet, but _never_ together, it's the only rule about this thing. He's sure of it.

“What assumptions?” Bossuet asks lost. “What I don't know?”

“I omitted you a detail the other day when I told you about this reincarnation stuff.” Joly starts and he's back moving around the living room like before. “In my lives I don't only meet you, I...also meet Musichetta. I find one or the other, that's how it works.”

“Ah, now I see.” Bossuet comments and there is just a hint of bitterness in his voice. “What do you mean is that you love her or me.”

Joly stops and Musichetta holds her breath because she never thought she would hear such cold and distant tone from Bossuet.

“I admit that said out loud it doesn't sound nice at all.” Joly clears his throat. “But, well, yes.”

“So this is what this is all about?” Bossuet sighs. “You made a choice and you wanted to tell me?”

“No.” Joly shakes his head. “The point is that I can't choose. I love both of you and until now it has been easy because nobody ever asked me to choose, but now you are both here and I have no idea what to do.”

Bossuet knows Joly and he can imagine how difficult for him this situation may be and he can't make it even more problematic, it wouldn't be fair. “Except, it's not the first time, Joly, even if you don't remember it.”

“True.” Joly admits calming down a little bit. “But we were together back then, you said it yourself, so it doesn't help.”

“I think that I didn't remember everything correctly that night.” Bossuet admits. “When I entered earlier and saw you two...” he can't say it, he _won't_ say it. “Well, I had a sort of flashback, a better memory and I can assure you that this is not the first time you two did it.”

Musichetta groans and let her head hit the wall behind her. “Oh well, thank you Bossuet that definitely help us feeling less guilty.”

“That's not what I was trying to say.” Bossuet rolls his eyes.

“You are trying to say...” Joly frowns and stops. Come on this is crazy. “We...already tried _something_ to fix this situation.”

Bossuet smiles because Joly can still read him like an open book, Musichetta or not Musichetta, and this is all that matters. As long as Joly loves him, he doesn't give a damn if he loves someone else too. “That's what I believe. I mean, how can you explain the fact that I am not the slightly jealous?”

“You are not?” Musichetta asks surprised. “I believed you liked me, Bossuet, you hurt my feelings.”

“You know I like you, 'Chetta.” Bossuet reassures her with a kind smile.

“Are you two flirting?” Joly looks at the two completely lost. Not only his lovers are in the same lifetime and in the same room, but they are also getting along too well.

Musichetta blushes and laughs nervously, just like someone caught on the fact. “Maybe.” she jokes. “Why do you think I wanted him to work with me?”

“You are the worse Musichetta.” Joly says rolling his eyes. “Can you be serious?”

“I honestly think that being serious doesn't suit us and did no good either.” Bossuet shrugs. “So it's worth trying to laugh at this crazy situation.”

This is exactly why Joly loves them. “I guess you are right.”

“So, what are you suggesting, Bossuet?” Musichetta asks. Suddenly everything seems so normal and maybe she will survive this day and tell her grandchildren about it with a smile on her lips.

Bossuet hesitates because he's not sure what he's suggesting or what he's remembering. “Joly, do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” Joly replies immediately.

“Do you love Musichetta?” Bossuet asks simply.

This time Joly hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Yes, I do.”

Not that Bossuet expected any other answer. “Musichetta, do you love Joly?”

It's like asking her if she likes breathing, but Musichetta decides that she'll be as polite as possible. “Do you, Bossuet?”

“Oh, I do.” Bossuet nods. “Which doesn't leave us a lot of option.”

“We have more than one?” Joly smirks. “That's what I call a nice surprise.”

“Shocking, I know.” Bossuet agrees, he stands up and cracks his neck. “For how I see it, there is no use in making you take a decision that will make you unhappy, Joly.”

“So what we do?” Musichetta asks interested.

“We share.” Bossuet answers to her. “If for you is okay, Musichetta of course. I am not leaving him all to you.”

“Sharing?” Musichetta repeats shocked, then she's laughing and she can't stop. “ _Sharing_! Oh god it's so scandalous! I like it, let's do it!”

“This is crazy, and I saw a lot of crazy...” Joly starts.

“Oh Joly come on!” Bossuet says sapproaching his boyfriend. “You can't and won't choose, we don't want to lose you, and this is the only way to make this works.”

“Bossuet has a point.” Musichetta comments showing up at Bossuet's side.

"I really don't like when you two team up.” Joly mutters. How is he supposed to deny anything to them? The idea is not that bad, it's worth a shot.

 "Well, you should get used to it.” Bossuet warns with a smile.

 "Yes, because from today you will have to deal with both of us.” Musichetta adds with a smirk, resting her head on Bossuet's shoulder and batting her eyelashes.

 “I just hate you two, I just hate you.” Joly rolls his eyes. “Fine, let's try.”

Musichetta and Bossuet smile at each other and then they hug Joly at the same time.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, May 25 th 2012**

"Why is there a cake in our fridge?" Musichetta asks arching an eyebrow and staring at said cake, the milk she was supposed to put in the fridge still in her hands.

"Because it’s the 25th of May." Joly replies flipping through the pages of the newspaper.

"Oh." Musichetta says when it hit it was day it is. "It’s already a year, then?"

"Yup." Bossuet nods enthusiastically. "Give it a couple of hours and it’s a year."

"Well, time flies." Musichetta comments putting the milk in the fridge. "I think that after a year we can say that things worked out perfectly, don’t you think?"

Joly and Bossuet share a look before answering, it may be a year but a small part of Joly is still not sure this is what Bossuet really wanted, but in this moment Bossuet seems the happiest of them, so maybe everything is really perfect the way it is.

“I agree.” Joly says with a big smile. “Against all odds we did it.”

“I remember when you didn't want to try.” Musichetta laughs and decides that the grocery can wait. She sits on the couch between Bossuet and Joly and looks at the latter with a grin. “You are so lucky that Bossuet and I know it better.”

“You are just lucky to have us, period.” Bossuet adds with a grin that matches Musichetta's.

“I never said I wasn't.” Joly states simply, his lips already curved in a small smile. “I am glad this worked, really.”

“Me too.” Musichetta agrees, she spread her arms and rest them around Joly and Bossuet's shoulder. “I am glad I have my two magnificent boys for me.”

“Did you hear that, Joly? We are magnificent!” Bossuet exclaims happily.

“I hear that.” Joly confirms with a big smile.

“Oh come on!” Musichetta rolls her eyes. “You are not going to make me forget I said that for a very long time, right?”

“Exactly.” Bossuet and Joly says at the same time with a proud face.

“Lord help me.” Musichetta shakes her head. “What about we celebrate this anniversary in a proper way before you two ruin the mood?”

“And which it is the proper way?” Joly asks curious.

Musichetta grins at him then stand up. “Well, I was thinking that since it's such an important day for us, I could make a striptease”

“That doesn't sound like a bad idea.” Bossuet comments really interested in the eventuality. 

“Yes, but you know I do nothing for nothing.” Musichetta reminds them pursuing her lips. 

“Ah, it seems to beautiful that you were going to do something nice without nothing in return.” Joly jokes and he regret it immediately because Musichetta grabs one of the couch pillows and hit him with it. 

“Idiot.” Musichetta says hitting Joly once again. Then she recompose herself as nothing happened. “I just want to watch.”

“Watch?” Bossuet frowns. “Watch what?”

Musichetta sighs because only Bossuet can be this innocent.

“Oh.” Joly suddenly gets it. “She means watching us, Bossuet.”

“It's only fair.” Musichetta shrugs. “You watch me, then I watch you. I also want a show to enjoy.”

Bossuet thinks about it for a while: it's not like he and Joly hadn't some time alone in the past year, or Joly and Musichetta, or that Musichetta never walked in them making out, but it was accidental so he guess that that never counted. “I think we have a deal.”

“Wonderful.” Musichetta grins again. “I'll change in something more appropriate, wait for me here, I'll call you when I'm ready.” she announces; she kisses both boys on the lips and then disappear in the bedroom.

“She has been planning this for months probably.” Bossuet comments amused. “I never thought she had such voyeuristic intentions.”

“Are you quoting The Rocky Horror Picture Show now?” Joly asks as amused as the other. “Buy yes, probably you are right.”

Bossuet moves next to Joly and gives him a peck on the cheek. “It's awesome, isn't it?” he smiles. “They way everything worked, look at us, look at what we have, one year and I still can't believe we settled so well.”

Joly smiles fondly. “You know, I couldn't be happier.” he says honestly. “Here I am with the people I love the most loving me back and loving each other. No problems, no complications, just acceptance and love. It's like all my previous life meant nothing because this is what I really needed to be happy.”

“You know, Musichetta and I just want to see you happy, because when you are happy we are happy.” Bossuet says taking Joly's hand. 

“I am pretty sure you and Musichetta aren't really forcing yourselves to like each other.” Joly adds with a smirk. 

“Not at all.” Bossuet confirms. “I am actually grateful that you picked up an awesome girl or otherwise I am not sure this could have worked.”

“But it worked.” Joly whispers. It worked, it really worked. He never felt so completed and satisfied. He never experienced such unity and intimacy. “It worked, Bossuet, and I never had a better life.”

Bossuet smiles and kisses Joly with tenderness, to let him know that he's aware of how scared he is every day that this will backfire at them, to let him know that he couldn't have a better life either.

“I hope that you are just rehearsing and you didn't start the show without me!” Musichetta exclaims from the corridor looking at them.

Joly and Bossuet laughs at the same time, but they stop when they turns their heads to Musichetta because she's wearing a red, satin dressing gown, but it's half-opened and they can see part of the corset she's wearing and their attention is caught by the way said corset makes Musichetta look even sexier than usual.

“It's going to be an interesting show.” Bossuet says to Joly, but his eyes are still on Musichetta.

“I agree.” Joly nods slowly.

“So are you coming or I have to start without you?” Musichetta asks almost annoyed. Men, let them see some skin and they will stop working properly.

Before she can really start without them, Joly and Bossuet moves from the couch and almost run to the corridor to join her.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hoped this to be better than this, but I had problems, so many serious problems that I cut off a lot of the project (hey prompter, I owe you an angsty historical joly/bossuet, sorry.)
> 
> A big thank you to tumblr user the ladyinapanicroom for helping me with the plot and the beta.  
> A big thank you to Victor Hugo for the Corinthe quote that worked perfectly to make Bossuet remember.
> 
> (also I didn't say it, but Joly and Musichetta remembers Paris, but a XV century Paris, not the June Rebellion.)


End file.
